


It Began With The Biscuits

by Lion_owl



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Episode: s05e16 Doctor Bashir I Presume, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Work In Progress, angst and plenty more where that came from, but don't worry it will be happy in the end, chapter 1 can stand alone, for garashir - everyone else is established relationship, more tags may be added/edited we'll see what happens, p.s. fuck the federation, there may be an appearance from the jack pack, twelve biscuits to break your heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10116461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: When Bashir's genetic enhancements are revealed, he resigns his commission and leaves DS9, with Garak by his side. He slowly attempts to piece back together his relationship with his parents, and is reunited with some old friends. Meanwhile, back on the station, his friends and colleagues are dealing with the shock of this new knowledge and trying to get used to losing him from their lives.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grunkling (professorgottlieb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorgottlieb/gifts).



> inspired by and named after [this post](https://lionowlonao3.tumblr.com/post/157115855421/wait-before-you-dismiss-this-as-a-baking-post)

So that’s it.

Just like that, my career is over.

I should have expected it really; from the moment I lied on my application form, I have been prepared for this possibility – but life here, on Deep Space Nine, has been so thoroughly different from life on Earth that I guess I was expecting better, and I let my expectations slacken, I let myself forget the harsh truth of my life.

 _Fuck,_ I’ve been an idiot. I’ve been complacent. I’ve lost everything.

It’s not until I get back to my quarters, lock the door behind me and sink to the floor that it really hits me.

I’ve lost everything.

The look of utter shock on Miles’ face when the truth was uncovered still haunts me, shock that turned to hurt and anger and betrayal as he coldly told me that he couldn’t believe I had lied to him, my best friend, all these years. The stray tears he tried to hide as he told me to get out of his sight. Keiko passed me in the corridor, she smiled at me warmly and I wanted to say something to her but my throat was constricted. No doubt by now he’s told her.

The look of disappointment on Captain Sisko’s face when I walked into his office and placed on his desk my comm badge and a PADD containing my resignation. He’s been a mentor to me; he’s been like a father, Jake like a younger brother, and I’ve let them both down. He pleaded with me to reconsider, promised to try and talk to Starfleet on my behalf. I told him not to bother. It was over, how can I stay here if the people I care about can’t stand to look me in the eye?

I haven’t told anyone else. I can’t bear the thought of facing anyone, facing the anger, the pity, whatever other reactions they may have. No doubt they’ll hear soon enough. Jadzia, Kira, Odo, Worf; Sisko will no doubt tell them at the next senior staff meeting, or when one of them enquires after my absence, or perhaps Miles will tell them over a beer. Once it gets out, people like Quark and Morn will spread the news like wildfire. And Garak?

Garak… I suppose he’ll hear it through the gossip line too. Or perhaps I should visit him, perhaps I should say goodbye to him in person, tell him what I’ve always wanted to tell him…

Only after a good half hour of sitting on the floor, moping, do I lift my face out of my hands and force myself to get up. I need to pack, need to get off this station. My parents’ transport back to Earth will leave in a few hours, and Sisko was good enough to get me a place on it. I don’t want to see my parents, but I know I must. There are too many things we’ve bottled up for too long, and I think it’s finally time to get it all out, talk about it all.

There isn’t much to take with me: I go into the bedroom and retrieve a holdall from under my bed, and empty my drawers of civvies, pyjamas, underwear and socks and into it. I should dispose of my uniforms, but I haven’t the heart to, so I leave them hanging in my wardrobe. I take down my curtains from the bedroom window and fold them into my bag. Garak made them for me for my thirty-first birthday so there’s no way I’m leaving them behind.

Again, thinking of Garak hurts, it stings, it feels like someone has stabbed me repeatedly and made sure to twist the knife each time. How will I make it without him? He’s been my rock. Not that he would believe me if I told him that. There’s a locked box I keep under my bed with things that have come out of my friendship him: data rods with novels and holo-programs on them that he’s given me; the ribbons he occasionally tied around them; a holo camera with the few photos of us that exist, and a real paper notebook containing the numerous letters I’ve drafted confessing my feelings for him and his importance in my life in great detail, none of them ever sent. I don’t even open the box, I just put it in my bag, I don’t have the strength to go through it now. How can I leave without saying goodbye to him? I can’t, but I don’t think I could stand to face him as I utter the words either.

The door chime makes me jump. Who could possibly be paying me a visit? Someone who hasn’t heard, of course. I open the door, and standing there, her hands clasped behind her back…

“Leeta?” I can hear in my own voice that I have failed to hide my surprise at her visit.

“Hey Julian.” She smiles at me, but it is tentative and it fades quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie. I just want her to go away. I don’t want to face anyone, any of the people I’ve betrayed. “Nothing, it’s nothing, I just…” I’m cut off from my pathetic attempt at formulating an excuse when she reveals her hands, and she’s holding Kukalaka.

“Miles came to me this morning and begged me to return him to you,” she explained. “Said it was the least he could do – he didn’t give me any more information. What’s going on?”

I take Kukalaka from her and, against my better judgement perhaps, hug the bear to my chest. I definitely had not planned to leave without Kukalaka, but had dreaded the thought of having to go and ask for him back. And Miles… must still care to have done what he did. _Least he could do?_ _Try maybe not being so selfish about this whole situation,_ I think, a small vine of anger growing up the gratitude I feel for him going to Leeta on my behalf.

“Thank you,” I tell her, “thank you, Leeta.” _I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry._

Presumably realising I’m disinclined to tell her anything, she nods, a little awkwardly, and backs away. “You know where I am if you want to talk,” she says.

“Thank you,” I repeat, and as she turns and walks away without another word, I spare a quick thought that I hope things work out between her and Rom. When she’s gone, I turn back into what will soon no longer be my quarters, and something catches my eye: sitting on the coffee table in the corner of the room, is a folded piece of paper sitting on top of a plain, dark purple tin, which I hadn’t seen before.

I walk over and kneel in front of the table, hesitantly taking the paper and unfolding it to discover a note, handwritten in a loopy style:

_“You’re still welcome in my life.”_

Well, that’s reassuring – but in whose life? There is no name, nothing on the note to indicate who left it. Perhaps something in the tin will clue me. I open it, but to no avail: the sender remains a mystery. The tin contains only some biscuits. I furrow my eyebrows. Who _could_ they be from?

No doubt Garak would chastise me for it, but I take one of the biscuits and bite into it, relishing the taste of gingerbread which fills my mouth. Gingerbread – my favourite.

Feeling infinitesimally better to know that someone, whoever they may be and however disinclined to reveal their identity they may be, still wants me in their life despite knowing my secret, I put the note in the tin, close it, and stow it in my bag, along with Kukalaka, and the pile of PADDs which contain all of my research projects.

I stand, stretch, and allow myself a loud, weary sigh before casting my eyes around my quarters to see what else I want to take with me. I mostly have everything, there are just a handful of trinkets to pack before I’m ready to go.

I don’t want to go.

Deep Space Nine has been my home for five years, has been the place where I finally felt like I have a family. This place means so much to me. And now I have to leave it in the past. I almost sink to the floor again. It would be so easy to. I could go into the bedroom, lie down on that bed and refuse to move, ever.

But it’s time to move on.

 _I am going to move on now,_ I say to myself, steeling my resolve. I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder, and leave the quarters for the last time, and as the doors slide shut behind me with a hiss, I lift my head high and walk away. I might as well leave with what little dignity I have left.

The promenade is fairly quiet when I reach it, much to my relief. I decide after all that I am going to bid Garak farewell. I have to steel myself again, but I know it’s something I need to do… however, when I reach his shop, it is closed, it is locked up and the lights are off.

I almost ask the computer for his location, forgetting I no longer have my comm badge. It’s too late. Perhaps I can write to him once I’m back on Earth. No, maybe not: it’s probably for the better that he’s not here. Why would he want to see me, anyway? Why would anyone want to see me?

It briefly crosses my mind that perhaps if anyone has the capacity to appreciate my situation it is Garak; after all, his entire history is one huge game of truth or lie as much as mine, only he flaunts it with pride where I have kept it my deepest, darkest secret. Perhaps he would respect me more if he learned of my own deception?

It doesn’t matter. He’s not here, and I have a shuttle to catch.

Deflated, I accept my lot and head towards the docking ring, skirting through the shadows to avoid Kira and Dax, who have just exited Quark’s dressed in their Camelot attire. No doubt they will accost me if they see me, and I don’t have the energy for the conversation that will ensue.

Since when did I start thinking of my friends wanting to talk to me as being accosted?

I make it to the docking ring without incident, and just when I think perhaps I can get away quietly after all, my world begins spinning out of control even more than it already is: Garak’s there. He’s standing by the docking hatch, a bag slung over his own shoulder.

“Garak?” I don’t think I’ve ever sounded so shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like, my dear doctor?” Garak asks, a warm smile crossing his face.

“I…” I falter. Everything is coming to a standstill. It looks like he’s planning to board that ship. Why does it look like he’s planning to board that ship? My mind his whirling.

“Doctor, you made this cold, bright hostile place feel like somewhere that I could call a home – there is nothing here for me without you. Wherever you go, I’m coming with you.”

The brutal honesty that so rarely comes out of his mouth knocks me off kilter almost as much as the actual words. I can barely think straight, and my knees feel like they’re going to fail at any second. Tears sting my eyes, and I close them for a second. I will not. I will not cry.

I reach out to steady myself against the nearest bulkhead, but it is not near enough and I stumble. He catches me.

“I know about what happened with Zimmerman,” he says. “I know you feel like you’re worthless, but you mean more to me than you could possibly imagine.”

I need him to stop being so honest, it’s too much to take. At least, I’m assuming he’s being honest – I’m not sure how he could lie about his intentions to follow me onto a ship and travel to Earth. I don’t know what possesses me, but the words “Oh, Elim,” slip from my mouth as I launch myself at him, flinging my arms around him as I embarrassingly sob into his shoulder.

I don’t even want to think about what any of this means, or think about the fact that he hugs me back. With everything I have, I pull myself together, and take a step back, disentangling myself.

“Do you really want to come with me?” I ask, terrified he’ll say he’s changed his mind, or worse, that it was all some cruel prank and coming with me was never his intention.

“If you’ll have me,” he says instead.

“Yes,” is all I can get out, and before I have a complete emotional breakdown in public, I turn and stride into the shuttle, my dearest friend by my side and my situation looking just a small fraction brighter.


End file.
